


Laurent's Nightmare

by pinkdrinksandmusic



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Auguste is also there and is still dead, Canon Compliant, Character Death In Dream, M/M, Post-Canon, the Regent is in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkdrinksandmusic/pseuds/pinkdrinksandmusic
Summary: He didn’t bother to call out for Damen. He wouldn’t come.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 101





	Laurent's Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I usually remember my dreams vividly, and most of what I dream are nightmares. There are nightmares (and night terrors) that have stuck with me since early childhood and then other times I have nightmares and I’m sure it’ll be one of those that stick, but then I forget what it was about and all I can remember is a couple seconds worth of it or just the fear and pain I felt from it and while it can leave a lasting impression for a few days, it also passes. 
> 
> Dreams, especially nightmares, have been a lifelong fascination for me because of this and I often daydream nightmare/dream au’s and stories and finally decided to write one. Hope you enjoy!

People were dancing all around Laurent, wearing masks and hiding their face as they did in masquerade parties they held back in Arles. Only they weren’t in Arles, but Ios.

There was music playing, and the people were spun around him in a blur. He took the hand of a lady and found himself twirling with her, then letting go and turning to someone else, feeling disappointed with every time. None of them were the person he wanted to dance with.

He found himself searching for him. Many of the people he danced with were around his height or shorter, few were taller than him and even then, it wasn’t quite as tall as the man he wanted.

When he made it to the edge of the dance floor, he took a break and looked around, then finally, finally...he saw him with his back turned. He went to him without thought.

“Damen.”

But Damen couldn’t hear him.

Damen was among the people of his court, though most were faceless or wearing masks. Damen himself wore no mask, his face open as always. Laurent reached out for him, but then someone else’s hand touched Damen’s arm instead.

Jokaste.

Laurent took a step back and watched Damen look at her the way he only wanted Damen to look at _him_. The way Damen moved was so familiar. He tilted Jokaste’s chin up as he had with Laurent so many times.

“Damen – _no_ —”

He wanted to push himself between them, to banish Jokaste far, far away so they’d never have to deal with her or see her again.

He watched as Damen kissed her, slow and gentle, as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

He didn’t have to imagine how Jokaste felt, being kissed like that. Damen kissed her exactly how he kissed Laurent. He could see how he felt mirrored in Jokaste, how breathless and overwhelmed she was. It was impossible to think when being kissed by Damen, impossible to do anything but feel it. The way Damen kissed was addicting, the emotions that came with it too much and not enough. Whenever Damen broke the kiss, Laurent always wanted to pull him back in and coerce him to kiss him _deeper_ and _longer_.

Just as Jokaste was doing now, her hands in Damen’s hair as she opened her mouth for a more involved kiss.

His heart ached at the sight, more so when Damen and Jokaste finally broke apart, breathless, and then walked away from him.

He couldn’t take the sight of Damen’s back.

“ _Damen_!”

They paused and turned, finally taking notice of him, and the way Damen looked at him felt crushing.

He looked at Laurent as if he were nothing but a stranger.

He looked at Laurent as if he were nothing to him at all.

Jokaste leaned up and whispered something in Damen’s ear and they shared a private look. Damen’s hand went to her lower back and led her out away from Laurent, rushing eagerly. Laurent remembered that, as well, remembered nights where they were eager to get back to their bedroom and get their hands on each other. Damen would sometimes press him against a wall on the way, to take his mouth or kiss along his neck. Laurent would always hook a leg over Damen’s waist and tempt him with his words and body, and Damen would whisper in his ear how much he wanted him.

Thinking about Damen leaving him behind to be that way with Jokaste or _anyone_ else hurt him.

He wanted to chase him, but his feet were rooted to the ground. He wanted to call out to him again, but he couldn’t. Usually all he had to do was say Damen’s name and his attention would be completely focused on Laurent. Even that wasn’t often necessary, as Damen’s attention was almost always on Laurent.

He didn’t know what to do in a world where Damen wasn’t naturally drawn to him, didn’t come to him when he needed him, called or not.

A hand came on his shoulder and he shuddered. He looked over and there he was.

Uncle.

He wasn’t in Ios anymore, but in Arles.

Had it been Arles this whole time?

Suddenly everyone from his uncle’s court surrounded him and his ears buzzed with whispers he thought he’d never have to hear again.

_I’d love to have him on his knees._

_Right? He can have a mouth on him in court, I’d love to shut him up in bed._

_Good luck getting him there. His blood is of ice._

_I’d love to see him in the ring._

_I doubt he touches_ himself _._

_And his poor uncle! He tries so hard to be there for him and the Prince is just ungrateful to him._

_He doesn’t even_ try _to be a part of this court._

_If only he were like his brother._

Laurent turned away from his uncle, trying to catch who the words were coming from, but he couldn’t make anything out. It was as if he hit his head and couldn’t see properly.

His uncle wasn’t in his line of sight anymore. He was surrounded by whispering blurs, standing side by side and far too close to him and spinning around him even as they faced him.

It was as if the room itself was spinning.

His mind was telling him to figure out an exit plan, was warning him of some kind of danger, but there was nowhere to go.

_Don’t run._

_Auguste wouldn’t run._

“Laurent, are you okay?”

Everything stopped then. The whispers, the movements around him, and the people who were once closing in on him as they spun around were suddenly far away.

And there he was.

Auguste.

Laurent was stiff when his brother came up to him and placed his hand on his shoulder, where his uncle’s had been. He looked just as he had the last time he saw him. Tall, with blond hair just a bit darker than his own, and looking at him as if Laurent was a child he needed to comfort.

“Are you alright?”

_No._

He looked around at the people around him.

“Where’s Damen?”

“Who?”

Laurent looked back at his brother and his words caught in his throat.

His brother was bent over a bit, hands covering his chest where blood poured out of a deep wound and created a puddle on the marble floor. Laurent looked down and saw that he was standing in it.

“Laurent,” Auguste choked. “ _Why_?”

“What—?”

Laurent looked back down and saw that he held a sword – _Damen’s_ sword – his own hands covered in his brother’s blood.

“I didn’t—“

He tried to let go of the sword, but his hand wouldn’t move.

Why couldn’t he _move_?

“He made his choice,” his uncle said, coming up behind Auguste and speaking to the court. “He has chosen to side with our family’s murderer.”

You’re _the murderer,_ he wanted to say, but couldn’t.

The sword that slew his brother wasn’t his uncle’s, but the one in his hand. It was an inescapable truth.

The whispers started again and they were more frantic than before. He could barely catch what some of them were saying.

_Our Prince is nothing more than an Akielon’s whore._

_He lies in the depraved embrace of his own brother’s killer!_

_I knew his blood was ice, but I never thought he’d go this far._

The people’s voices sped up with each word, jumbling together until they were just a ringing in his ears. But what he had heard had been enough to make him want to shut himself up, deep in his own mind so that he was far away even as he was standing among them.

There had been a time when he was used to these sorts of whispers, but it had been so long…and he never thought he’d have to listen to them again.

He had felt safe, protected and respected, but this wasn’t his court in Delpha and Damen wasn’t there to protect him.

And his other protector, his brother, now lay dead on the floor in front of him.

Once again, he was alone in the snake pit, without friends or family he could trust.

Without Damen.

It hurt.

It hurt worse than the first time.

Then it had happened gradually. His uncle chipped away at his reputation and turned his people against him. And even then, his household remained loyal.

His household was nowhere in sight and everything was happening at once.

And Auguste…

He looked at Laurent as if he were a traitor.

Finally, the sword clattered to the ground.

But his hands were stained.

“Laurent,” an older voice spoke then, and Laurent looked up.

He wasn’t in the ballroom anymore, but in court in Ios facing the council. He didn’t know if his hands were still stained with blood, because they were chained behind his back. He looked behind him and only saw unfamiliar faces twisted in disgust, directed at him.

Damen wasn’t there.

Damen hadn’t come for him.

There would be no week in the summer palace, no future where he felt cherished.

He would never be King.

This was always what his life was meant to be.

How could he ever think he would win against his uncle?

He could only win in a world where Damen was there to help him, but he was nowhere.

He didn’t bother to call out for Damen. He wouldn’t come.

It had been a mistake to get used to him. It had felt so _good_ to be with Damen, to have someone who was protective over him again, who made him feel safe. He had been happier than he ever was in his life. And while he had been terrified to lose him, when he was bleeding on the floor of the baths, the feeling had quickly disappeared as Damen recovered. It felt like nothing could touch him, nothing could take him away. The days spent with him felt endless.

Maybe those days never happened.

Maybe he’d always been alone, and in that loneliness, he dreamed up a different life for himself.

“You spread for your brother’s killer,” Jeurre said, “and worse than that, you gave him your heart and devotion. You _chose_ him over your family. You betrayed your brother’s memory and he may never forgive you from beyond the grave. Your father would roll in his grave if he knew what you’d done.”

Laurent said nothing, denied nothing.

Herode looked at him with pity as he asked, “Was it worth it?”

Was Damen worth it?

“Yes.”

He didn’t have to think about it.

Damen, and the days they spent together leading up to this moment, was worth everything to him.

The council members were shocked, speaking lowly amongst themselves in hurried, hushed voices.

Laurent didn’t bother to listen in, he thought only of Damen in that moment. He thought of the night they shared together at Ravenel, their days on the road to Ios. He thought of Damen squeezing a cloth soaked in cold water over the nap of his neck in the shade of a tree, how surprised he’d been by the gesture. That Damen looked after him even in the smallest of ways.

If nothing else, he could rest knowing Damen was alive.

Herode said, “Laurent, do you have nothing to say for yourself?”

“I have nothing to say. Everything is true.”

The people of the courtroom erupted in whispers and shouts. Laurent blocked them all out. His mind was on his last morning with Damen. How he had looked in the sunlight.

It was his uncle that got up and came to him.

“Are you sure you’ve nothing to say for yourself? The Akielon didn’t force you?”

“No. I wanted him.”

_I’ll always want him._

“You’d betray your country for a coward?”

Laurent felt himself harden.

“Damen is no coward.”

“Oh? Did he not leave you for dead?”

Laurent froze.

_It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. That’s what matters._

“I wanted him to. I’m glad he got away.”

His uncle shook his head.

“My poor boy, did you truly think I’d let him go?”

“What—”

The sound of something rolling toward him caught his attention, and his heart clenched in agony as he looked toward it.

_No._

Damen’s severed head.

 _NO_.

His eyes widened and his legs gave out under him.

He gasped as his uncle caught him, and choked at the sharp pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw his uncle’s hand was curled around the hilt of a dagger that was buried in his heart.

Laurent woke up with a small gasp, his heart pounding and his cheeks wet.

Images of his dream flashed in his mind and his chest ached at it.

He lay on his left side, and his left foot hurt because his right had been digging into it. He grit his teeth as he gingerly moved his foot off the other, waiting for the pain to pass. The inside of his cheeks and the corners of his mouth were also sore from biting down on them in his sleep. His jaw would probably ache the whole day, because he was having a hard time unclenching it. 

He remembered getting stabbed in his dream just before he woke up, and there was a phantom sting in his stomach from it.

He tried to focus on his breathing, steadying it and calming his heart.

Damen’s arm was thrown over his waist and Laurent had the sweet memory of Damen curling himself around him in his sleep. Laurent focused on that.

After retiring for the night, they had gone to their bedroom and made love. Laurent recalled every sweet word Damen had whispered to him in Akielon, words of love and devotion.

Damen had fallen asleep before Laurent and, sneaking out of bed, Laurent decided to read a little from their personal library until he was tired. When he finally went back to bed he was quiet, his movements slow, careful not to wake Damen.

Once he had settled in the bed, Damen, still sleeping, instinctively reached for Laurent and spooned him. He remembered the feeling of adoration toward Damen then. They had shared a bed for so long, almost ten years. They were used to each other’s presence while sleeping and rarely woke each other up.

Laurent remembered a time when the slightest sound or movement woke him up. That time was far in his past. Even though Damen moved around in his sleep, he very rarely woke Laurent up from it. Laurent slept deep and comfortable with Damen next to him, regardless of whether Damen moved around or pressed against him.

As if responding to his thoughts, Damen moved against him, pressing closer a bit and lightly pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Damen?”

Damen answered in a tired mumble, “I’m here.”

Slowly, he turned in Damen’s arms and faced him. He fought against the impulse to have Damen comfort him. He didn’t need it. Damen being with him was enough.

Without thought, he placed a hand on Damen’s chest, feeling the warmth of his bare skin and counting his heartbeats.

Damen stirred and grunted. Without opening his eyes, he pulled Laurent closer to him.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbled in Laurent’s hair.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

And it was the truth. No matter what he had dreamed about, it couldn’t touch him here.

Out of habit, Damen pecked Laurent on the mouth, used to kissing him goodnight. Unable to help himself, Laurent tilted his head up and returned it, enjoying the simplicity of their familiar, sleepy intimacy.

He turned in Damen’s arms again and smiled when Damen settled against his back.

Tomorrow…tomorrow he would tell Damen of his dream, as he often did when he could remember them. But when he thought of what he would tell Damen, he struggled with it.

What had he dreamed about?

It had been painful and he was sure it was one that would stay with him. He tried to hang on to it, but the details of what he dreamt were fading away, his heart calm and comforted by Damen’s presence. Little bits and pieces remained, so that his dream felt short and random.

He remembered feeling alone and his need to see Damen and have Damen with him.

As his eyes drifted shut and his mind became foggy with exhaustion, he stopped trying to remember it and let himself sink into a deep sleep. It felt good beneath the covers of their bed, wrapped up in his husband’s arms.

He was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [tenderkings](https://twitter.com/tenderkings)


End file.
